The Kirks at No. 42

Emily puts the washing on,

just another weekend at home.

The usual chores, kids running wild,

a mother's love reborn.

A happy life, contented, safe,

her dream had come to pass.

Suburban life, the man she loves,

they all said it wouldn't last

Lazy afternoon sitting on the couch

another beer suits James just fine.

Football on the telly, can't be beat,

comfortable in his prime

The raucous din, he zones it out,

focussed firmly on the glass.

His dream lady just next door

they all said it wouldn't last

The ball, the ball, the crazy chew

Bobby darts around, fur flying

Mum and Dad home, a happy pup

tasty treats, no trying.

Grey coat shines and bounces,

eyes sparkle as he dashed.

Happy hound, this ball of fun,

as through the house he crashed

Headphones on, texting friends,

Alice lives every teenage dream.

Wants for nothing, sings out loud,

with her boyfriend of her dreams.

Closets crammed full of labels,

how much could she amass.

Top notch her academic skills,

she's quite the clever lass

Speakers shake and rock the room,

rock anthems through the ages.

Bill rocks and plays his air guitar,

upon imaginary stages.

A life of Riley some would say,

of metal, rock and thrash.

Still he cut the neighbour's lawn

and helped them with their trash.

Another summer's afternoon,

flowers wilting in the sun.

Rubble now, where was a house,

a void where once was fun.

Explosion ripped away the lives,

of the family at forty two.

James, Emily and Alice

Bill and bouncy Bobby too.

© Fergus Martin

2014